Something Crazy [#WCONTEST2015]

Something Crazy

I turn to look over my shoulder at the boy with messy blonde hair sitting down at a table on the opposite side of the small coffee shop for what must be the tenth time since I first arrived here before turning back around to stare out the window at the blanket of white powder covering the ground outside. A wistful sigh escapes my lips, but I immediately mentally chastise myself for allowing such a thing to happen. I'm on winter break, and my mind should be consumed with what christmas gifts I should buy for my friends or what things I can do to help my family prepare for Christmas Day, yet I'm sitting here with my hands wrapped around a small mug of coffee letting myself become hopelessly infatuated with a beautiful stranger.

"You're doing it again." I look up sharply upon hearing the familiar voice and smile sheepishly, tucking a strand of my platinum blonde hair behind my ear when I see Amanda, the pretty brunette waitress with hazel eyes and olive skin around my age who's become a close friend of mine due to my visiting this coffee shop so often. Her hands sit on her hips accusingly and she has a knowing look in her eyes that tells me she's well aware of my fascination for the blonde haired boy.

"Just talk to him already, Jocelyn. I can't stand to see you sit there and stare at him without making a move any longer. It's pathetic," she teases. I shake my head with a hopeless smile.

"You know I can't." She rolls her eyes impatiently.

"This is so depressing. If you don't do something soon, I swear I will tear my hair out on the spot. Well, either that or I'll just drag you over there myself. Probably the latter. But seriously, Josie, it's not that hard. Just walk up to him, introduce yourself and let it flow from there." She then walks away to wipe a table in the center of the shop, not bothering to allow me to respond. I sigh and look back down at the mug of coffee in front of me. She makes it sound so easy, and for her, it probably is. Amanda has no filter and no problem approaching people. That and her bright, bubbly personality make her like a firework; she's explosive and she captures the attention of others with no difficulty. I, on the other hand, stay quiet for fear of saying the wrong thing or making a fool or myself, which tends to happen a majority of the time anyway. It's pointless, though, trying to avoid appearing foolish because I don't even have to say anything to know that I'm a fool for that boy.

I tell myself I'm stupid. I'm so stupid for letting myself become overwhelmingly giddy at the thought of him uttering a single word to me when I don't even know his name, but I can't help it.

I can't help that seeing him walk in shortly after I've sat down makes my heart race with hopeful anticipation that he might, for once, turn and stride in my direction. I can't help that hearing him order makes me want to sit down across from him and talk to him for hours upon hours just to hear his voice. And I can't help that every Saturday morning when I come here, he's here too.

I hastily remind myself that I'm on winter break for the umpteenth time. Christmas is on it's way, and alongside brainstorming gift ideas for my friends and coming up with ways to help my family, I should also be laughing and shaking my head to myself, overcome with a wave of nostalgia as I recall fond memories of christmas time in previous years, but I can't help but reminisce instead about the first time I saw the boy who tentatively sips his coffee in this shop every Saturday morning like I do.

That, of course, is all due to the fact that I certainly couldn't help on the first Saturday I saw him that when I looked up from my phone, startled by the sound of the shrill bell ringing upon the arrival of a customer, he caught my gaze and flashed me the kind of smile that had me awestruck, grinning like an idiot and giggling to myself like I had a wonderful secret for the rest of the day.

All I knew in that moment was that I hadn't even properly met him and he already knew how to make my heart melt the way no one else could.

I noticed him again exactly three weeks later lounging on the small sofa in the corner of the coffee shop with a magazine in his hands while a steaming mug sat on the coffee table about a foot and a half out from the sofa. He had an ease about him that made him seem incredibly laid back and casual, yet I was (and still am) hesitant to approach him for fear that talking to him and saying something wrong would stain him with an unpleasant impression of me like children leaving their fingerprints scattered on glass.